


Aura

by myshining



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 08:45:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3603780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myshining/pseuds/myshining
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haru had a gift.<br/>A gift, his grandmother called it, but he had deemed it more of an ‘advantage’ or ‘ability’ than anything else. It wasn’t special. It did no good. It wasn’t ‘divine’. In fact, it was a bit of a mutation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aura

Haru had a gift.

A gift, his grandmother called it, but he had deemed it more of an ‘advantage’ or ‘ability’ than anything else. It wasn’t special. It did no good. It wasn’t ‘divine’. In fact, it was a bit of a mutation. 

So, consequently, his mother and father didn’t do anything to fix it. They supposed it taught him empathy, when really it just made him a little insecure when a wrong pulse would hit his surroundings.

Haru could not only sense moods, but feel them, see them, sometimes smell them and get caught up in their colors. All of them had a color. Mostly, everyone was a light blue, a calm, content, happy color that was pale in comparison to some of his close friends. 

But Rin was special.

Rin was very special.

He always held a color of a sunset, a pulsating wave of oranges and reds that all reverberated from a hot ball of color in his chest. It spread through his arms and veins, pumping like oil in an engine and filling up every inch of skin with pigment when he approached him. Rin was an interesting guy; he had a short-fuse at times and it never took too much to get him fired up and looking like his body was surging with hot, molten magma. When Haru stood close to him, he could feel the waves of his energy hitting him like a step outside into summer, where the heat is hot and heavy and you can feel the sun’s rays are on your face, or opening a hot oven and feeling the wind of energy and smell blow at you and flick your hairs out of place, covering your face in a blanket of warmth and coming in sort of wavelengths, each one crashing against Haru’s invisible aura and filling him with a deep sense of comfort. 

Haru loved Rin’s color. He always admired it, how it was continually there, slowly flickering away deep inside of his chest, and when he stepped closer it would burn like a wildfire inside of him and spread just the same. But it changed, too. Rin wasn’t always his red-hot self. They had their swimming, and their bets, and their childish little games, but come one day when there was an actual competition. The competition that was mostly just for kicks. Haru just wanted to swim, but that day Rin’s energy was so hot and wild that Haru nearly was blinded by the colors in the starting lane.

Haru focused on swimming. He focused on himself, which is something he learned he really shouldn’t ever do, ever. He could feel Rin’s force through the water. It was buzzing like a bee, whirring in his ear like a hellish pair of wings or a blade that never quit going, and made it feel like the water was boiling underneath him. But he didn’t focus on that energy. It was hard, believe him it was, but he managed it. And he finished before Rin.

If Haru could remove any color in the spectrum, it would be the color that filled Rin’s belly and heart after he saw Haru’s time next to his. It was a childish thing, sure, and normally one would play it off if they didn’t have this ability to see. It was a disgusting shade of purple. This indigo that put out the fire in his soul like an ice cold bucket of water that chilled him to the bone. His skin raised bumps and his body felt clammy just looking at it, his head suddenly heavy and his fingers turning into jelly. It never looked good on anyone, but especially Rin, who was always so warm and loud with his aura. It looked like someone had broke a blue pen on a sheet of paper, it just splashed and slopped everywhere in a hideous, chilling mess that made Haru regret ever racing him in the first place. While his friends and teammates cheered for him, they had to physically force the trophy into his hands. 

It was hard to swallow, but Haru finally spat the words out to relieve some of the pressure. _“I’m not going to race you anymore.”_

Instead of feeling a playful burst of warmth, Haru saw that horrible color sink deeper, shutting out any heat that may have still been lingering on the surface. Feeling sick, he left, and life went on. 

The color disappeared, but still lingered in aftertones when the topic was discussed, and always made the air feel tighter when it appeared again. 

However, now that racing wasn’t the priority. Things got different. The hot oranges and yellows were all suddenly very pale in comparison to the bold red that latched on to the skin around his heart, lungs, and stomach. Sometimes Haru was curious if the red in his torso was spreading to the skin of his cheeks, though it would only be a blush, sometimes it would flicker with heat like a soft, fragile flame under his skin, deep inside underneath the skin into his soul.

Things got very different. Swimming bets were replaced with very, very embarrassing things to speak with in public. Some of which might be taboo to his friends and teammates. Rin began to come over on the weekends when the dorms were closed and hold him, the sun’s warmth that was once there now softer, quieter. Nicer. Better. It felt like a warm blanket even without one, a lukewarm bath, sand between his toes and warm concrete under his feet. He’d hold him and they’d watch movies, eat together, sleep together, all tangled up in human knots and doughy like soft pretzels. Rin would sometimes try to get clever - taking extra steps to be higher up. When Haru would respond, he’d feel the soft, warm waves shift a bit, then come on again without a problem, sometimes even stronger. 

Haru had never seen such a shade of red in his life. It was a sort of bloody color, one that you’d see on roses or velvet ropes. One that could be bottled up and painted on women’s nails or spun up in a fabric and worn around. It was coming from deep within - but a paler shade would linger on the surface that would always interest Haru to points where in the soft dark, when Rin’s chest would be pressed up close to his and breathing calmly with the soft snores of sleep, when he would press a fingertip lightly to the surface, and add fingers until his whole hand was pressed over an illuminated, warm, thumping red heart.

He’d play with them in his sleepless hours, tracing the patches of red fire underneath his lightly tanned skin and lighting them up like his own version of the Northern Lights. Like a version of connect the dots, he’d trace over the ‘hot points’ and sometimes be amazed when a flash of yellow would burst out from his head and travel to his chest, and he’d sluggishly look back to see Haru’s restless face and his outstretched hand, all while the yellow died down into a soft, deep red with a crooked smile stretching on his lips.


End file.
